


As the Clock Ticks On

by PaperShroud



Category: Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mentioned Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8808088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperShroud/pseuds/PaperShroud
Summary: Just a short little alternate ending for Great Expectations. Inspired by the deep connection shared by Pip and Herbert.





	

Dusk was beginning to fall and a light rain had just begun to fall from the greying sky when I heard a knock on the door. It had been a year since I had decided to become independent and move out of Herbert and Clara's home, and as I walked to the door I couldn’t help but notice the ease in which I was able to navigate my flat. I pulled open the door to reveal Herbert, very wet, and appearing to be quite distressed, his voice trembled as he spoke.

"My Dear Handel, I'm afraid something terrible has happened." He explained that he had been finishing at the office when a robber had broken into his and Clara's home, she had tried to defend their home, and the robber had stabbed her, killing her and her unborn child.

"I wouldn’t trouble you like this but I'm afraid I just can't bear to go home, not when it feels so empty." he continued. After thinking about it for a moment I replied.

"Well then, I guess there is no option but for you to stay with me for a while."

"But my dear Handel, I couldn’t possibly intrude" I noticed his hands were shaking as he spoke.

"You won't be intruding, remember the many years I spent living with you and Clara. I never properly thanked you"

***

Three years passed and Herbert and I still shared the flat, no mention had been made of him moving out, and neither of us was very inclined to begin that conversation. We had fallen into a sort of rhythm: waking up, taking turns with breakfast, and walking to and from the office together. Every Christmas Joe and Biddy would visit, a meal would be prepared, always with plenty of gravy and never any tar water. Many laughs were had, and late at night Herbert and I would watch their now greying heads disappear into the carriage.

Herbert tried to fall in love again, but found himself unable to connect with any of the women he met. After each failed attempt he would come home we would sit by the fire talking about lost love and the past. I never saw Estella again, but sometimes heard rumors, that Drummle had been killed by a horse and she had moved away and remarried a French aristocrat.

Eventually Joe and Biddy Gargery both died naturally, and within a week of each other. Herbert and I attended the funeral, and watched as they became Joe Gargery and Biddy, loving wife of the above. Wemmick died of old age, years after the Aged Parent. They are both buried on the grounds of their home, now inhabited only by an elderly Miss Skiffins, who we sometimes visit. Wemmick left me much of his portable property, which now resides quite comfortably in a box under my bed. Jaggers is still alive; it sometimes seems that he is too stubborn to die, or that death is afraid of him, he invited it in, much as he did the robbers.

One night, Herbert and I were sitting by the fire, reminiscing when he asked.

"My dear Handel, do you think you will ever love again?"

"I don't think it is an impossible thing, and you?" Herbert stared straight at me.

"I do believe I might" and still staring right at me, he reached for my hand.

As Herbert's hand found mine, my most vivid impression was that I Pip Pirrup, son of the late Phillip Pirrup, and Georgiana Wife of the Above, was holding the hand of Herbert Pocket, the pale boy I had met so many years ago, son of the now deceased Matthew and Belinda Pocket, and that outside of our flat sprawled the crowded city of London, and the only person who mattered was right beside me, we had both lived through so much heartbreak, and yet I knew that the person leaning towards the person he loved, and had lived with unknowingly for so many years, was Pip.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, if anyone reads this, thanks for taking some time out of your day to read my little story. I wrote this last year for extra credit in english and thought I might as well post it. Feel free to comment, I can take constructive criticism, or just say hi. Should I start actually writing sometimes? Should I delete word from my computer? Do people even read Charles Dickens fan fiction? Am I just shouting into an empty void? Feel free to voice your opinion below, I'm honestly curious.


End file.
